


Your Leading Light

by insolitaire (gummywhale)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Kaaras is always overthinking, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 11:58:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3691446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gummywhale/pseuds/insolitaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaaras needs to be in control. As he's faced with more decisions, more events the workings of which he doesn't understand, he feels this control slipping. He needs to face the fact that he may not know everything, and may even not know exactly he is himself. Iron Bull and Dorian can help with that. Rated for future chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Leading Light

“Rift's straight ahead, go for the usual approach.”

 

The Iron Bull barely had time to nod before the hulking figure before him faded from view, as if it had never existed in the first place. He had to admit to himself that there were more things about the Inquisitor that perplexed him than was usual. Yes, he knew the Inquisitor's many tells by now – the slightly furrowed brow as he concentrated, the twitch of the fingers on his right hand when he was nervous, or the light quirk of his lips as he planned one of his usual clever retorts. But more than that, it was the unusual that drew Bull to the Inquisitor. This way he could simply disappear and walk among the enemy unnoticed was definitely one. His terse commands and quiet nature combined with an irreverent, quick tongue were another. It all made him want to know more.

 

The few words Adaar had spoken immediately set everything in motion. The Inquisitor had developed a strategy for approaching Rifts early on, and his companions, Iron Bull included, caught on quickly.

 

“Efficiency is key here,” Adaar had told him one quiet night by the campfire, “Stun them all at the beginning, and my attacks are more effective on my first target. More time for shields too.”

 

Yet again, it fell to Cassandra, Bull, and Solas to draw the attention of the creatures. Once Adaar chose the moment to disrupt the rift, there was no going back. Not one enemy could be allowed to attack him in that moment.

 

Bull saw the telltale green flash as Adaar pulled at the rift, briefly stunning the creatures around them. Even as he swung his ax, cleaving through otherworldly flesh and spraying the green grass at his feet with viscera, Bull couldn't help but glance at the Inquisitor. Adaar fought like a demon, lithe and quick despite his size. His twin daggers flashed in the fading sunlight, stinging the foe with a strategic precision. Adaar would run at the enemy from behind, attacking with vicious stabs and slashes before leaping back from grabbing claws. Every time he'd fought alongside Adaar he'd watched those controlled movements. He'd looked for a moment where the Inquisitor let go, where he let his body move freely. He was yet to see him slip.

 

But today, as the daggers slashed through the last of the demons, Bull swore he saw a glint of madness in those dark eyes.

 ________

 

_Pages crumbled and disappeared into the void. Words he couldn't make out, written and spoken and shouted into his ears by unseen gods flitted through his mind. They passed like millions of lives, like insects running, running to escape, to survive, no time to stop no time to look, mages , templars, blood pulling them all into one mass that reared into the face of true mortal fear and hatred._

 

_He screamed as it swallowed him whole, he scratched at the darkness that engulfed him...his hands were gone, he didn't dare look down..._

 

“Inquisitor! I knew I'd find you here.” 

 

Kaaras gasped awake, large fingers fumbling to prevent the book in his lap from falling to the floor. He quickly glanced toward the window, relieved that the position of the sun hadn't changed much in the time he was asleep. Every moment was precious, he barely had time to read as it was. And this dream...they'd started after the Conclave, after he'd awoken with the Mark and sans some very vital memories, and they'd become bloodier after the events at Haven. There was simply not much time to worry about them, but now that these visions caught up with him every time he closed his eyes he'd probably have to make time for extra freakouts. 

 

Dorian was shuffling up the stairs, carrying three enormous tomes in his straining arms. The man went so far as to exert himself on his behalf. How touching. 

 

“Here,” he huffed, setting the books down on the table beside Kaaras' seat, “Dagna agreed to lend you some of her research tomes, you'd better take good care of them. I don't like to think about what she's capable of if her materials are threatened,” he stopped for a moment, looking closely at Kaaras' face, “Are you quite all right? You look a bit pale.” 

 

“I-I'm alright,” he needed to change the topic, quickly. “More Fade theory?” he couldn't suppress the excitement he felt from showing in his voice as he reached over to grab the topmost tome, eager to read through it, dream already nearly forgotten. 

 

Dorian tried and failed to hide a smile behind a ringed hand. He was the only person who never actually questioned Adaar's love for books, general obsession with knowledge, and, more recently, desire for an understanding of Fade theory. He'd been ridiculed for it before, as a mercenary he always carried a few books with him, traded for new ones when he had the chance. It no longer bothered him that people couldn't accept the sight of someone like him gently turning pages instead of ripping out hearts and smashing skulls or whatever it is people expected. But it was refreshing to have someone who didn't even bother to throw a judgmental look his way. 

 

“I take it you've been questioning Solas again not too long ago,” Dorian said, scanning the shelves idly as he watched Kaaras ponder a diagram, “He looked unusually cheerful, and as far as I know nothing gets him in that sort of mood other than a rapt audience.” 

 

Kaaras smirked up at the man. “Observant as usual,” he said, looking away from the diagram. As much as the concepts fascinated him, the terminology and diagrams gave him trouble. His lack of education in this field was painfully obvious, but with help from Dorian and Solas he'd made progress. He needed deeper understanding of his power over rifts, he hated to use anything so blindly.

 

“The way he describes magic, the way he describes the Fade,” Kaaras frowned, finding it difficult to put his feelings into words, “It's all very uncertain. Very unpredictable.” 

 

Dorian at him, his expression unreadable. “That's understandable,” he said, “Even what little in our world that can be quantified always has a great degree of uncertainty. We spend our whole lives trying to understand something but the reality is that we'll never truly know much about it. These diagrams,” he gestured at the book in Adaar's lap, “In relation to what can realistically occur, they are based on an appallingly small sample size. The next pages? They're all exceptions noted in that sample size.” 

 

“So what are you saying?” 

 

“I'm saying you have to understand that you'll never have complete control. And...well this may sound strange but once you work with that you may actually have more control over a power and your uses for it may surprise you.” 

 

Kaaras shook his head. He felt confused and more than slightly unsettled. Everything he'd done, everything that made him who he was, was built around his love for simple reliability. His strategies were based on careful deconstruction of common, possible, and unexpected factors. Yet there is was, Dorian had voiced what he feared most. No matter how any of them fought to make sense of the world around them, they were building a thin film of logic and procedure over an endless sea of chaos. 

 

Dorian shot him a knowing look before pushing a book he'd pulled off the shelf back into place. 

 

“Oh I can almost hear you thinking,” he pulled the tome from Kaaras' weakened grasp, “How about we do this. You only just got back from that Hinterlands trip yesterday, you need a break. We will go get some drinks in you, and tomorrow when you have a free moment I'll make sure you've got those diagrams down.” 

 

“But there's so much to-” 

 

“Come Inquisitor, even you should let go once in a while. Especially you, I'd say.” 

 

He couldn't find it in himself to argue with the mage. Adaar pulled himself up from the chair and followed the other man down the stairs, a fraying memory of a dream on his mind and a disconcerting tightness in his chest. 

 

He didn't really understand what Dorian meant by “let go”, exactly, but he did let himself have a good time. As drinks flowed and laughter crashed over the summer stillness like waves on a balmy night, he let himself smile. He thought of good things. He remembered Dorian's warm smile, the feel of his daggers' hilts in his hands. His mind wandered to quiet nights by the fire with his old company, of trying to make out the small text in one of his books by the flickering light.

 

Every once in a while, he felt a heavy gaze rake over his form. It didn't bother him as much as it would have were he sober. But he was the Inquisitor. The feeling of eyes watching his every move was not unusual. It was something he'd resigned himself to. 

 

In the end, he did look back. To his surprise, it was Iron Bull who stared back, his gaze unflinching and apologetic. Dorian was sitting beside him, very close the the Qunari, in fact, and seemed to be speaking quietly. Kaaras felt another tug on his chest. It was as if Iron Bull's gaze was burning him. He felt the tips of his ears grow hot, and he hoped desperately that there was no visible flush to them. He didn't understand what was going on. 

 

Those eyes, they were narrowed as if appraising him, and at the same time trying to take him apart and see how he worked. This was a look of someone highly curious. But also something more. It frightened him, but thinking about it also noticeable deepened the flush in his ears. What was Bull doing? Was he watching him with the eyes of a spy, trying to glean bits of information from the way he sat, from what he was drinking? He would've thought Bull had had plenty of time to analyze him, both back when he was the so-called Herald and then as the Inquisitor. What could he possibly want to learn now? 

 

It seemed like this was a day for confusion, nothing seemed to be making sense. The best course of action would be to go to bed, regroup his thoughts, and recover whatever shreds of structure left in his thoughts in the morning. With a sigh, he pushed himself from his seat, quietly excused himself, and stepped out into the night. 

 

He tried to take another step, but the world tilted dangerously around him. He grabbed onto a beam for dear life. Too many drinks. He seemed to be disorganized on all fronts today. Even in his current state, he knew it wasn't a good idea to let others see the Inquisitor pass out face-down on the ground. He managed to pull himself up on a conveniently placed beam and lean against it. To an observer, it would seem as if Inquisitor Adaar was contemplating the clear night sky. Everything would be fine if he could just stand here for a few minutes and get his head to stop spinning. 

 

“Hey, Boss!” 

 

He spun around, and managed to focus on the grey form that was sauntering over in his direction before his legs twisted from under him. Before he could resign himself to the inevitable crunch of his face on dirt, he felt something grip his arm. He was no longer falling. 

 

“Boss, you alright?” 

 

_Shit._

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! you can talk to me/yell at me/send me prompts at templar-bitch.tumblr.com


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